


deceptive cadence

by simplyclockwork



Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Classical Music, Gen, Sherlock plays music, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 03:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: “Sherlock and John are alone in a church, for a case. John discovers that Sherlock knows how to play the organ. He watches him play with as much passion as the violin"-Tumblr prompt from mundancheemudomo
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Sherlock Fics - Part One [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528859
Comments: 12
Kudos: 53





	deceptive cadence

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got around to writing this story. Based on a beautiful prompt by @mundancheemudomo I deeply enjoyed writing this little ficlet.
> 
> I deeply apologize for any errors made in the language around Sherlock’s organ playing - I am not in any way, shape or form familiar with classical music terms (haven’t played an instrument since I was 13, and even then, it was beginner level flute), so if there’s mistakes, please know I did my best with some research. And I got to listen to some really wonderful classical music.
> 
> This is what Sherlock is playing:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_AzwJwy7Ns
> 
> I strongly recommend listening to that video while you read. It's 10 minutes long and so achingly gorgeous. The organ adaptation is amazing, and I thought it fitting for Sherlock to play a song on the organ that is generally played on the violin.

Despite all the cases worked together—all the solved and the failed; the blogged stories and late-night investigations—Sherlock still surprises John on a regular enough basis that he finds himself constantly expecting more. 

Mid-October brings a case that leads them to an old-style cathedral church. In the aftermath of a string of murders and no leads, Lestrade has desperately called Sherlock in to consult. After talking with someone in authority, they were given the green light to use the church for an overnight stakeout. 

Settling into a hard, uncomfortable pew, John shrugged his shoulders against the solid wood; checked that his gun was tucked safely against the small of his back. Reassured, he sighed, settled his hands on the seat and looked around. With high ceilings and stained glass windows, the inside of the church appeared ancient and pristine.

Taking in the beauty of the edifice, he was struck by a sudden silence and noted Sherlock’s absence. As he searched for him, standing to look towards the door, a low, plaintive note resonated through the dusty air. Turning, he spotted the detective, seated in front of the massive organ piano at the front of the church.

“Do you play?” John asked, wandering up to where Sherlock was seated. 

Sherlock tilted his head; ran long, confident fingers over the heavy keys. “Of course, John. Surprised?” A simple but smooth melody drifted through the church in response, and John chuckled. 

“Chopsticks? Seems a little pedestrian for you.” John joked, leaning his back against the wall. 

Sherlock snorted and cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have a request, Watson?” He replied, voice droll and uncharacteristically relaxed. John noted the calm, confidence of the man before him and felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Dealer’s choice.” He said, waving a hand and folding his arms over his chest. 

Sherlock turned back to face the organ; sat still and silent for a long moment. Finally, as John watched, intrigued, the detective lifted his hands and paused, fingers hovering over the keys. At last, he began to play. 

A warm, haunting note emerged from the instrument, followed by quick, higher notes that built upwards to a mezzo staccato rhythm, gradually mellowing and swelling into stacked riffs. Sherlock’s long fingers moved in quick, fluid movements, drawing notes together in delicate trills that drew goosebumps along John’s arms.

Alternating between delicate waves of sound and dramatic crescendos, Sherlock filled the church with powerful music. As his fingers floated and danced over the keys, he swayed slowly with the tune. Eyes closed, he seemed to be connected to the melody as if through an unseen tether. John watched, rapt, entranced by the rise and fall of the piece. 

The music died away, and John, thinking Sherlock was finished playing, stepped forward, moving towards the detective. However, Sherlock resumed after only a brief pause, drawing soft, sharp vibrato from the instrument. Stunned, John hesitated until Sherlock shifted over slightly, leaving room for John to sit on the bench beside him. He did so, watching with mesmerized eyes as Sherlock’s fingers caressed the keys in smooth, confident movements, wrists flicking expertly with each motion. As he swayed gently, his shoulder brushed John’s. When John looked to his face, Sherlock’s eyes flicked open, meeting his. He didn’t smile, didn’t speak, just held John’s eyes as the music shifted into a delicately cascading column of soft notes. His arms moved slowly, and John could feel the energy of the other man all along his side. 

Abruptly looking away, Sherlock launched into a complicated crescendo pattern, fingers moving in blurs over the rows of keys. Eyes closed once more; he coaxed an intricate stream of powerful cadences from the organ. Feet moving over the pedals, he paused for a brief second, then brought his fingers down on the keys in a final resonating synthesis of euphonious sound. 

Finally, he released the keys, folded his hands in his lap and let the last haunting notes dissipate into the silent ceiling arching above them. John sat in a long moment of silence, Sherlock quiet beside him, eyes still closed.

John swallowed the breath caught in his throat, coughed softly and smiled. 

“That was…” he paused, searching for the right word. Shaking his head, he chuckled. “…amazing. Fantastic? _Stunning_.” He shook his head again. “It was absolutely and completely, _bloody brilliant_.” 

Sherlock, eyes once more open and focused on John’s face, smiled. He looked pleasantly surprised with the praise, and John felt a sharp pang in his chest at the vulnerability in the other man’s cautious acceptance of the compliments. 

“Thank you, John.” He murmured. They looked at one another for a moment, until John cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the spell. 

“Yes. Well. You’re welcome.” He nodded brusquely, shifting to his feet and folding his arms once more over his chest. “So—the case.” 

Nodding as well, Sherlock rose to stand beside him, eyes dropping from John’s face and roving over the church walls. “Yes, the case. Given what we already know, I predict that the suspect will…” 

John listened, humming and nodding in the right places, only half-focused on Sherlock’s words. His eyes drifted to the organ, and he thought he could still hear an echo of Sherlock’s playing; could feel the notes filling the space between them with a faded melody.


End file.
